


Hale's Specialty

by Twice_Shy (notboldly)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff, M/M, Shaved Ice Stand, Summer, puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 13:44:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7642888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notboldly/pseuds/Twice_Shy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek owns a shaved ice stand, and Stiles is the frequent customer who mostly just wants to run away and raise snow cones with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hale's Specialty

The first time Stiles saw the shaved ice stand was in passing, as he huffed and puffed his way up the lone hill in Beacon Hills on a bicycle that had seen better days. If his bicycle was old, though, the stand was even older, with the dented metal body reminding him of something from the fifties and the tiki hut top looking sadly outdated, like a last attempt at staying hip with the kids and their Gilligan's Island craze. The sign above the closed window said "Hale's Shaved Ices" in dull green paint, each letter _s_ flaking slightly at the bottom, and Stiles couldn't help but think that it added to the overall sad picture. Like the stand itself, the sign looked like it had been there forever, a landmark of some distant era, but Stiles knew that couldn't be true; he came this way almost every day and had done so for years, and this was the first time he'd never seen anything but weeds on that little plot of land. It filled him with more questions than the situation probably warranted, but since it was barely five o'clock in the morning, there was no one around to assuage his curiosity. Stiles just made a mental note, hoping he'd remember to stop by on his way home from work, and that was that.

He promptly forgot about anything but work after three kids fell off the rock wall less than two hours after the rec center opened. It was a headache all the way from screaming kid to screaming manager, and all Stiles wanted to do was go home and watch Netflix until he could barely keep his eyes open. He was ensconced on the living room couch with a soda and craving ice cream when he remembered the shaved ice stand, and this time he put a reminder in his phone. Tomorrow for sure.

Tomorrow brought other problems, however, the primary one being that the stand was _swamped_ when he got off work that afternoon. Stiles hadn't noticed the crowd when he'd passed by yesterday, too caught up in his own head, but he definitely noticed today. It was obvious, in retrospect; it was May, the heat of summer was picking up rapidly, and it was a _shaved ice stand_. He doubted anyone else cared how or when it had gotten there, and Stiles suddenly didn't care that much either; all he could think about was eating snow cones at the beach when he was younger, his mom holding his hand as they strolled, and then all he could think about was how desperately he wanted a cherry ice.

He pulled over and put up his kickstand in absence of a bike rack, and he nervously watched the people milling about and hoped no one had sticky fingers in more ways than one. The line was long but worth it, because when he was four people from the front, he saw something even better than a delicious frozen treat; the guy standing behind the counter was _gorgeous_ , dark-haired and green-eyed with truly impressive forearms to match the defined pecs stretching out his t-shirt. Aside from the cash register and a nearly empty tip jar, the cashier was the only thing Stiles could see in the window, since the breadth of his shoulders neatly blocked all views into the inside of the ice stand. It was enough to make Stiles a little light-headed, and he kept sneaking peeks at him as the line moved forward. 

He would've been content to discreetly ogle him indefinitely except, of course, that he had never won points for subtlety. By the time Stiles made it to the front, it was clear that the guy had noticed.

"Are you going to stare all day, or are you going to order something?"

His shirt said _Derek_ and his expression said _don't even think about it_ , which was funny since Stiles had seen him give a free shaved ice to a five year old girl and her mother not five minutes ago. Still, the combination of the comment and his glare made Stiles's cheeks flush more than they already were from heat and exertion, and he quickly looked away. 

"Sorry. Just…sorry. Ah, one cherry ice please. Large."

Derek rang him up on the beat-up cash register—also outdated, Stiles couldn't help but notice. Actual buttons, rather than a touch screen?—and Stiles handed over his card without a word.The exchange was silent and awkward, and then Derek sighed.

"Sorry, your card's been declined. Do you have another?"

Stiles shook his head, cheeks still burning when he accepted his card back. 

"No. Sorry again."

Well, that was embarrassing; instead of being the creepy customer who stared, now he was just the creepy guy who stared without buying anything. It wasn't his finest moment, and Stiles turned away, plans of avoiding the shaved ice stand and the entire street already forming when Derek tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Stiles paused and looked up, braced for another glare or worse, but Derek didn't look nearly as mean as he had a minute ago.

"It's fine." Derek jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Go wait by the tables out back, alright?"

Stiles nodded, opening his mouth to ask _why?_ but Derek had already moved onto the next customer. Stiles took the hint and walked over to the tables, feeling awkward until Derek came out of the side door ten minutes later, holding a cherry ice. He handed it to him, and then Stiles felt more than a little guilty; the thing was _enormous_ , perfectly formed in a mound inside a pineapple-shaped cup, and, apparently, he'd gotten it for free.

"Dude, you didn't have to do that."

Derek shrugged and turned back around, seemingly unconcerned about giving away another free ice. A thought occurred to Stiles just as he was taking his first bite (cold, cherry goodness, exactly as he remembered.)

"Wait." Derek paused, and Stiles gestured at him with the hand that wasn't currently holding a frozen, delicious monstrosity. "You must be the owner, right? Hale? Thanks."

That earned him a short nod before Derek went back inside, and Stiles smiled after him, enjoying his treat just a little more than he had before.

***

Stiles went back to the shaved ice stand the next day, despite his better judgement. He rationalized it as repeat business because of good customer service, but if he was being honest, Derek didn't seem to _have_ good customer service aside from his tendency to give the occasional free ice to his more pitiful customers. When Stiles was standing in line and wasn't preoccupied with staring, he noticed that Derek's words were often clipped and impatient, giving the impression that he'd originally come from somewhere a lot tougher than Beacon Hills. That explained why the tip jar had been so empty the day before, at least, as well as the frankly _baffled_ look Derek shot him when Stiles shoved a ten dollar bill inside the jar, right on top of the pitiful handful of coins.

"What?" Stiles squawked out, feeling defensive for no reason. "You gave me a free ice yesterday, because I was having card problems. I didn't want you have to worry about overhead costs or something."

That got him an eye roll, because Derek was apparently an _asshole_. A hot asshole, but still.

"They cost pennies to make. Seriously, don't worry about it." He pressed a few buttons on the cash register, each push a whole lot harder than they probably needed to be. "A large cherry ice, right?"

Stiles didn't know if he should be worried that Derek apparently remembered him, but he was very sure he shouldn't have felt _flattered_. (He did anyway.) 

The other thing he was sure of, though, was that he didn't want to be remembered as the boring cherry ice guy, and so even though the line was shifting impatiently behind him, he made sure to look at the menu. There was an intimidating number of choices, from the ordinary fruit flavors to ones that seemed a little more out there. He couldn't think of anyone who'd actually want a raspberry, marshmallow, and blueberry ice, even if it _was_ called Red, White, and Blue.

"I don't know. I've already had the cherry—what do you recommend?"

Derek gave him a thin, impersonal smile. "Anything on the menu is good."

"Yeah, but what's your favorite?"

Derek jabbed a finger at the special's board, and the flavor of the day: Halestrom. Stiles snorted.

"Dude, like maelstrom? Cool. What's in it?"

"Blue coconut and green apple. Sour spray if you want it." Derek's lips twitched, although the motion was too small to be a real smile. "And ice."

Stiles laughed and handed over his card. "I'll have that then. Large, and 'yes' to the sour spray. And my card will even work this time, I promise."

Derek nodded and rang him up, and Stiles went behind the stand to wait for his shaved ice, just like he'd done the day before. When Derek came out, it was with another ice monstrosity, although this one was much different than the mound of the day before. There was a funnel-shaped hole in the center, ice fanned away from the edges towards the dark blue cup, and the two flavors were swirled together in a pattern over white ice, with extra syrup at the bottom. It looked, surprisingly enough, kind of like a whirlpool, and Stiles was in love.

When Derek held it out, Stiles took it from him with something approaching reverence.

"This is the coolest thing I've ever seen," Stiles said, only exaggerating a little. "I'm almost sad that I have to eat it."

"You can always order another one. I can make it even when it's not the special for the day."

Stiles beamed at him.

"Aw, special treatment? I'm so happy." Derek didn't seem in a hurry to leave, so Stiles took a bite while he stood there. He was surprised at how well the flavors went together, and although it wasn't his favorite flavor combination, it was interesting. Stiles _loved_ interesting. "But you've done it now. I'm going to ask for recommendations every time, if they're all this cool."

"Knock yourself out."

"And I'm going to talk your ear off. Just so you're aware." Stiles took another bite and grinned with blue teeth. "Seriously. Cute _and_ creative? Talk about a winning combo."

Stiles expected an eye roll or a glare at the comment, and if that had been the response he'd gotten, he probably would've dropped it. He was flirtatious by nature, but even he didn't push his luck _that_ hard when someone clearly wasn't interested.

Derek didn't glare, though. Instead, Derek blushed, very briefly, and gave Stiles a look that was a step up from uninterested.

"Sure. If you want." He gave a short wave and turned back to the stand. "See you around, Stiles."

Stiles watched him go for the second time, his thoughts swirling around two things:

1\. Derek didn't exactly hate his flirting.

and

2\. Derek must have checked his card for his name.

***

After he left the shaved ice stand on a high note the second time, Stiles started going back to the stand every time he had an excuse. Not, of course, that he really _needed_ one; there was nothing wrong with liking shaved ice, or—as the case probably looked to anyone who might see his debit card statement—really, _really_ liking shaved ice. Stiles worked at the rec center six days a week, and he stopped at the shaved ice stand on at least five of them; after a couple of weeks, Derek started to expect him, and he always had a recommendation or special ready for whatever new flavor he thought Stiles might like. Derek didn't usually say much else outside of the usual pleasantries, no matter how blatant Stiles's flirting got, but occasionally he'd smile at one of the more out-there lines or jokes, and Stiles would consider his work done. Derek had a lovely smile, even and white and with charmingly large front teeth; it was to everyone's benefit if he smiled more, and it certainly didn't seem to hurt his tips any if he gave his grumpy face a rest.

Stiles was feeling pretty good about himself and their strange little flirtation, and then he showed up one Wednesday in late June to see someone who was definitely _not Derek_ behind the counter. Stiles was disappointed, and it shocked him how intense the feeling was, like someone had just let the air out of his birthday balloon. So much for him dealing with his feelings like an adult.

Stiles sighed and got in line anyway since he was already there. When he made it to the front of the counter, he smiled politely at the girl waiting and ordered a cherry ice, large. Her shirt said _Laura_ in the same stitching Derek's shirt had had, and the name was familiar; Derek had mentioned a sister named Laura in passing about a week ago, and Stiles had hoarded the information like he did every little tidbit Derek gave him. When she handed him his card back, Stiles couldn't help but ask,

"Hey, you're Derek's sister, right? Is he okay?"

She looked at him with surprise, before the expression shifted into a grin. Oh yeah, _definitely_ Derek's sister; there was no mistaking the family resemblance in the thick, dark hair, the killer cheekbones, or the incredible hotness.

She didn't answer his question, though, not directly.

"You must be Stiles." She pointed to the special's board. "I'm surprised you didn't order the So-Lemon Grundy. He said you were a Batman fan."

"I, uh, didn't notice." He'd been too distracted, actually, by the lack of Derek. It probably said a lot about his priorities.

Laura grinned wider.

"He'll be back next week. Thursday." She gestured him to the back of the stand, and even the gesture reminded him of Derek. "I'll tell him you said 'hi.'"

Stiles didn't know what to say to that, and it took him a moment of standing around, waiting for his ice, to realize what Laura had implied. Derek had mentioned that Stiles liked Batman to his _sister_. How often did Stiles come up in conversation, exactly, that the subject led to that? The thought made him grin, and the expression might have been a little maniacal by the time Laura brought him his ice, judging by the look she gave him. Oh well; he was sure _Derek_ would put in a good word for him, if he wanted his sister to like him. 

Stiles didn't know what to do with his giddy feeling at the thought, so he ate his ice faster than he probably should've and hopped back onto his bike. He smiled the whole way home, practically bursting with the need to talk to Derek again. It was awful that he had to wait until Thursday, but he managed it; he probably should've been grateful for the break from what was essentially a large cup of sugar water every afternoon, but he mostly just…missed Derek. A lot.

Judging by Derek's expression—relieved, excited, almost _shy_ —when Stiles showed up on Thursday, the feeling was mutual. Standing in line was torture, and he's sure he drove the people around him crazy with all his fidgeting. In retrospect, he probably should've used that time to come up with a better opening line. 

"Hey, Derek."

"Hey, Stiles," Derek said, looking like he wanted to laugh. "What can I get you today?"

Stiles bit his lip and went for it.

"Is your phone number out of the question?"

Derek looked like he was thinking about it, and then he pointed to the special's board.

"That depends. Have you seen our special?"

Stiles obligingly looked, and when he did, his mouth dropped open. There, under the familiar word "SPECIAL" was "Stiles's Ice: Large cherry ice, and a date with Derek. Note: Only qualified Stiles may apply." 

Stiles turned back around and smiled an obnoxiously large smile.

"Okay, I changed my mind. I'll have the special."

***

END

**Author's Note:**

> This is our submission for the first week of the Sterek Summer Spectacle 2016! The theme for the work was "Summer," and we are Team Finger Lickin' Good. Please show your appreciation by voting for this work in [this week's poll](http://www.poll-maker.com/poll768363xC6434315-31).


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